


Once More, with Feeling

by Ahmerst



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, all three can grow and function together, also hints of Ren (and Noiz) knowing Ren isn't a simple ALLmate, although this is just Noiz/Aoba relationship wise, at first this was mostly about Noiz adjusting to life with unhindered sensation, because I get frustrated at times with the way the three are portrayed together, but then it started to touch a lot on the dynamics between Aoba and Noiz and Koujaku
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2740760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahmerst/pseuds/Ahmerst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turns out, growing up and getting married doesn’t mean you become an adult, only that you now get to babysit one for the rest of your life. But at least they have to do the same in turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The electric clock on the nightstand table read half past eleven when the numbers came into focus. Aoba blinked, rubbed the sands of sleep from his eyes, mind foggy and drowsy. He hadn't meant to nod off, not really. It had been a very real possibility, he knew that the second he lay down, but he hadn’t entirely accepted it.

He shifted at the sound of shoes moving across the hardwood floors of the apartment, the crisp clean click of expensive loafers. He wasn't used to that yet, the fact that they weren't left at the door. He rolled onto his side just in time to catch the silhouette standing in the doorway of the bedroom, dark and trim, hesitating with one hand not quite on the light switch.

"I'm awake," Aoba said, managing to sit up, legs crossing as he let his hands rest on his knees. His eyes stung with sleep, then stung more when the light came on.

"Welcome home," he said, mustering a sleepy smile as he looked to Noiz.

"Thanks," Noiz said. He smiled back, but it wasn't quite right. More an imitation than a real thing upon closer inspection, all shoddily put together and clearly counterfeit.

Noiz set his briefcase down as he toed his shoes off, loosening his tie in a practiced motion before tossing it aside. Aoba watched him quietly, took in the soft pink scars that marked his skin where piercings had been, spots as innocuous as faded bug bites. His eyes didn't meet Aoba's. They flitted around instead, looking nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Long day at work?" Aoba asked.

"As always," Noiz answered.

He perched at the very edge of the bed, his back to Aoba. There was a tense ripple that hunched his shoulders. It was a mannerism Aoba had seen before, one they'd spoken of briefly. Nothing more than a few short, awkwardly stitched together words when previously broached.

Everything was too much for Noiz. It wasn't always, but Aoba could recognize when it was.

The return of sensation had been a blessing at first. It still was, Noiz assured him. But there were times when Noiz was overwhelmed by the crushing excitement of it all. The freezing bite of an ice cream headache, the raw ache of a blister from breaking in new shoes, the itch and bite of a blooming sunburn on the back of his neck.

He had never been given the opportunity to experience the physical effects of these things while growing up, to learn and cope with discomfort. All at once it was thrust upon him as he was pulled from an unfeeling world.

There were times when it was better. Times where he would smile and shrug it off, unbothered by things as small as mosquito bites and the prick of a rose's thorn. And then there were the other times, when the pelt of shower water would shut him down, and he'd turn the taps off, soap still on his skin and suds in his hair. There were the worst times, when he'd come to Aoba, light eyes full of the pleading only youth could manage, and asked Aoba to make it stop.

So Aoba didn't complain as Noiz undressed himself with too much haste, pulling hard at buttons and popping stitches, tossing his suit to the floor in a crumpled heap that would take ages to iron. Aoba waited instead, breathing quiet and concern growing, with no idea of how to help.

"What can I do?" he asked softly as Noiz kicked his pants off, stripped down to his underwear.

"You don't have to do anything," Noiz said.

"But I want to do something."

"Yeah, well, when I figure out how you can help, I'll let you know," Noiz said. It was slightly clipped and sharp, stung more than Aoba wanted it too, but he swallowed down the hurt. He knew Noiz didn't mean to snap.

"Okay," Aoba said.

He sat on top of the covers, back against the headboard as he pulled his knees to his chest. Noiz stood to turn the lights off, the bed dipping when he returned. He sat on top of the sheets as well. Covers were something he struggled with, their weight suffocating no matter how few he blanketed himself with.

They sat in the dark, nothing more than soft, even breathing. Aoba's eyelids grew heavy, but still he remained upright, waiting for…what? He didn't know. A sign things would be okay. Reassurance. A reminder that he hadn't made a mistake.

The signal came in the form of rustling sheets as Noiz moved, shifting until he was a dark shape in front of Aoba, kneeling silently, hands on either side of Aoba's knees. He leaned in close, breath flickering over Aoba's lips before they were meeting a soft brush.

Aoba parted his lips immediately, a shiver zipping down his spine and reverberating there as Noiz's tongue slipped into his mouth, the small stud Noiz wore at times clicking against Aoba's teeth as his tongue traced over them.

This was good. This was nice. Noiz had been so dependant on the feeling in his tongue growing up that it was the one thing that sensation would never overwhelm. Noiz tasted Aoba carefully, lapped at his mouth with a gentle reserve, almost shyly.

Aoba flicked his tongue against Noiz's, slickened and warm. He could taste oversugared coffee on him, tried not to smile as he imaged Noiz at his desk, a sweet drink leaving water stains on the polished mahogany (he never could get Noiz to use a coaster). He sighed into the kiss instead, mouth lax and open as their saliva mixed.

When Noiz pulled back, a thin strand of saliva kept them connecting, snapping only when Noiz reached up to bat at it. There was a change to his expression then, a relaxed easiness that hadn't been there before.

"That help?" Aoba said, licking his lips. He tried not to think about how he was half hard, sweat beading on his skin.

Noiz's lips quirked up in a small smirk, eyes flashing in the dark as he thoughtfully licked his lips.

"Yeah, a bit." He leaned in close again, lips moving against Aoba's as he spoke again. "But I think I need a little more help."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, there isn't going to be a love triangle in this story or very much in the way of unrequited feelings. Love triangles send me up the wall, and Koujaku's feefees will be addressed in time.

Aoba stared at Koujaku, and Koujaku stared back. The fact they were thousands of miles away from one another didn’t stop them. Their gazes remained locked, expressions blank with concentration. Koujaku slipped up first, the corner of one lip curving before a chuckle was bubbling in his throat, and he turned away to laugh full and warm.

“I win,” Aoba said with a grin. 

“Only because I let you.”

“You say that every time,” Aoba sniffed. He wasn’t sure at what point staring contests had become the openers for their calls, but what he was sure of was that his winning streak wasn’t on account of Koujaku’s soft side for him.

Koujaku grinned, relaxed and easy as he looked back to Aoba.

“Because it’s true. Now what’s got you calling? Not that I mind, but it seems a little out of the blue.”

Aoba licked his lips and cocked his head to the side as he listened. It was true. They had their own little schedule for their calls, when the sun was warming the skies in Midorijima after sinking down in Germany. But it was the middle of the afternoon now, and he forced the mental math of what time it had to be on Koujaku’s side out of his head. He could tell from the way Koujaku’s hair cascaded over his shoulders, no longer pulled back, that he’d been in the middle of sleeping. 

“I need help,” Aoba started, immediately holding his hands up as Koujaku’s eyes lit with surprise. “It’s not an emergency or anything, promise. But it’s about Noiz--”

Koujaku’s eyes flashed, his expression darkening.

“Hold on, I’ll book your ticket back right now,” Koujaku said, and the image on Aoba’s coil flickered as Koujaku sat up in bed.

“No. No, no, no,” Aoba said quickly, frantic to diffuse the confusion. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

He hated how quick Koujaku was to jump to conclusions. Reservations were one thing, but his knee-jerk reaction that Noiz was a ticking time bomb, that Aoba needed to return to Midorijima immediately, was a growing strain on their own friendship that Aoba found himself heading off in every conversation. He’d tried a hundred times before to settle the matter, but it was a hydra of its own, growing stronger each time he cleaved it.

“It’s just that sometimes he gets, I don’t know, overstimulated?” Koujaku looked queasy at the thought, and Aoba went on to clarify, “Not in a sexual way, idiot. Like a cat or something, when you pet it too much and then it gets all fussy and unhappy.”

Koujaku looked at a point offscreen that Aoba couldn’t see.

"I don't know what to tell you," he said.

"But you do know what to tell me," Aoba said, exasperated. "Women love you, they flock to you. You make them feel good, and I want to do that for Noiz."

Koujaku stared more fixedly at the point Aoba couldn't see. He blinked once, so slowly that Aoba thought he shut his eyes at first.

"Play with his hair."

Aoba folded his arms over his chest and waited for more. When Koujaku didn't continue, he sighed.

"Really? That's the advice of a casanova, a modern-day Byron?"

"Oh course it is. That's what I do, Aoba. That's my job, and women come to me for it."

He had a point.

"Okay, okay, I'll try it. Seriously though, for a romantic sorta guy, I thought you'd have a better ace up your sleeve."

"Trust me, if I had an ace, you would’ve known long ago,” Koujaku said. He sounded far away, though he hadn't moved.

Aoba sniffed, unsure of what else to say. The longer he studied Koujaku’s face, the more tired and worn he looked, like a man that couldn’t sleep enough. It made Aoba’s gut twist with guilt for having woken him up at such an odd hour. Better to let him go now, while there was still a chance he could fall back to bed.

“Anyway,” Aoba hummed, “thanks for the advice. I’ll let you knock out for now, and sorry about calling so suddenly. I’ll come visit soon, yeah?”

“You better,” Koujaku said around a yawn. "I miss you.”

"Miss you too," Aoba replied, but not in the same tone. Not with the note of forlorn longing, the sadness of separation.

He tried not to think about why Koujaku sounded like that when they spoke.

\---

Aoba didn’t ask to play with Noiz’s hair. Mostly because the opportunity showed up on its own in the form of a lazy Sunday morning. Aoba had been vegging on the couch, not entirely watching the home design show that played on the oversized TV before him. Noiz had shuffled in from the bedroom, one hand reaching up his shirt to scratch at his belly, squinting at the screen as he made it out.

“Sleep well?” Aoba asked, looking up.

Noiz’s response was a wordless murmur that Aoba took to mean yes. He patted the spot next to him, and Noiz moved closer, not sitting so much as keeling over, wriggling across the cushions until he was curled on his side, his head a heavy weight in Aoba’s lap. Noiz nuzzled into his thigh once as he made himself comfortable.

“You can change the channel, I’m not really watching,” Aoba said, looking down at Noiz.

Noiz’s eyes were already closed again, and Aoba smiled softly. The six day workweek that had predated today had taken its toll on Noiz, leaving him bone tired each night he came home. For the sharp look of his suit, the practiced knots of his silk ties, and finely polished shoes, he was still so young. It showed now, in the roundness of his cheeks and the barely there freckles that dappled them. In the way his fingers curled in his sleep, seeking something to hold onto. They latched onto Aoba’s pajama pants, and he didn’t try to shake Noiz.

He let his hand come to rest on Noiz’s head instead, gentle and careful, barely skimming his fine golden hair. He threaded his fingers through the locks, wound them around his fingertips before letting them slip loose. He traced the edge of his nails along Noiz’s scalp, tucked his hair behind his ear before going to play with his bangs, twisting the ends of the hair between his fingertips. 

Noiz’s eyelids squeezed shut, his hold on Aoba’s pant leg tightening. He smiled, and it made him look so, so young. Childish, and with all the happiness that came from such an age. Aoba chuckled to himself at the sight, a sleepy, quiet sound as he moved his palm over Noiz’s hair, ruffling it up before smoothing it back down. 

He let his hand idly play with Noiz’s hair, gaze reaffixing itself to the TV. He let his mind wander as he half watched, understanding only half snippets of conversation. Despite self-study and weekly German lessons, the language wasn’t coming quickly to him, and at times it left him feeling isolated, alone in the world with only Noiz.

When a spot of dampness pressed against his leg, he looked down. Making a muted noise of concern, he found himself leaning in to peer at Noiz’s face. His eyes were still shut, but there were vertical tear tracks that began at the corner of his eyes. Aoba frowned, letting his fingers move from Noiz’s hair to his cheek, thumbing away the wetness.

“You okay?” he asked.

Noiz nodded against his leg.

“You sure?” Aoba prompted. Noiz was not entirely honest all of the time with his feelings. Stunted, really.

“Positive,” Noiz said, and his teeth shone as he smiled. “Just happy. Like whoa, holy fuck, what did I do to deserve being this happy?”

“You’re delirious,” Aoba said with a flippant wave of his free hand, though secretly his chest warmed. Seemed like Koujaku’s advice wasn’t half bad after all. “Hell, after your week I bet you’re worse than that. Starved and half mad, at the very least.”

“Maybe, but I’m still happy,” Noiz said. He turned his head to nuzzle against Aoba’s palm, earning himself a scratch under his chin.

“Well, I for one know I’m half-starved,” Aoba said, gently lifting Noiz’s head from his lap so he could stand. He stretched his arms above his head, the movement long and languid, his back giving a satisfying pop.

He couldn’t resist kneeling after that, bringing his face close to Noiz’s. He pressed his lips to the corner of Noiz’s before moving to his cheek, settled on the ridge above his brow, the faded pink mark where piercings had been. He found each spot after that, kissed the reminders of what had been there.

“Pancakes sound good to you?” Aoba asked after he placed a final kiss on Noiz’s lips.

“With lots of butter and syrup.”

Aoba snorted as he stood again. “You’re going to get so many cavities.”

“As an adult, that’s my prerogative.”

“Adult my ass, you’ll always be a youngin’ to me,” Aoba said, wagging his finger at Noiz before retreating to the kitchen.

He opened and closed cupboards, not entirely used to the placement of everything yet. He found a box of pancake mix buried behind a bag of trail mix and cans of soup. He pulled it from the back and checked the expiration date. Still good. He eyed the ingredients; milk, eggs, butter, the basics. 

The instructions seemed anything but. Aoba rested a hand on his hip as he studied the words. The words he recognized were few and far between, the rest of the letters a wiggly blending of lines that meant nothing to him. The cold sting of isolation crept into his stomach again, coiling heavy like lead. 

He knew if he asked, Noiz would help. But that wasn’t what he wanted. It was a sacrifice he made without realizing it, giving up his independence in the face of love. He’d do it again, given the choice, but it didn’t stop his heart from aching for the familiar comforts of Midorijima. He wanted to go back.

Not forever, he told himself. He’d worked out the words in his head, said them to himself in the mirror. But each time he steeled himself to speak to Noiz, his resolve crumbled at the sight of his open, honest face. Those bright eyes that always lit up when they saw him, the white, even teeth that shone as he smiled, his usual aloof expression dropping the second he saw Aoba.

It made him absolutely heartsick.

Swallowing down around the guilt in his throat, he grabbed the necessary ingredients from the fridge. Sure he’d grown lazy in his cooking, allowing Noiz to spoil him with take out and evenings in dark, quiet restaurants, but he could mix a few things together and slap it in a pan. He did just that, pouring the thick batter that resulted into the pan, watching it cook until it was time to flip.

He broke the first two pancakes, and the third was slightly undercooked, he was sure. He put them on his own plate, putting the resulting, improved pancakes to come on Noiz’s plate. He over buttered them as per Noiz’s wishes, drenching them in sickly sweet syrup before he took a plate in each hand, utensils wedged into the pancakes, and carried them out to the living room.

Noiz was sitting up, knees to his chest and hair wild where he’s slept on it. He grinned when he spotted his plate, stacked high to the point where it was nearly overflowing. His reached out for it with open arms, fingers wiggling in greedy anticipation. He crossed his legs to provide a space for his plate, and Aoba took a seat next to him, resting his plate on his thighs.

The TV was on the same channel he’d left it on. There was a couple browsing prospective homes, just married and still eager to inform everyone they could. The language they spoke caught his attention immediately, understandable to him as subtitles scrolled beneath them.

Japanese.

“Ever been to that area?” Noiz asked, ignoring his knife as he speared his pancake with a fork, eating it in two great bites.

“Nah, I never left the mainland,” Aoba said blankly. He fumbled his utensils as he cut a small piece from his pancake, lifted it to his mouth and paused. His appetite was dropping in a rush, stomach bottoming out as he found himself barely able to eat.

It tasted like cardboard and sawdust in his mouth, and two bites in he set his plate aside on the coffee table. He folded his hands in his lap as he watched the screen, twisting his wedding ring from side to side, a nervous tic he’d picked up. He thumbed the small inset diamond. Even now it seemed ridiculous, a right and proper _diamond_. Much too flashy for his tastes, he’d told Noiz. But it wasn’t. He loved it; just like he loved Noiz, and Midorijima. 

“Babe?” Noiz said, cutting through the uneasy fog in Aoba’s head.

“Mm?” Aoba said. He didn’t think he could speak.

“Are you-- shit, yeah, you are,” Noiz said, putting his own plate of half demolished pancakes next to Aoba’s near-untouched ones.

His hands were gentle as they cupped Aoba’s face and turned it towards his own. Aoba found his vision blurry, his cheeks wet this time as Noiz thumbed away tears.

“Don’t cry, I don’t know what to do when you cry,” Noiz said. He leaned in and kissed Aoba, firm on the lips, like he could chase the tears away with that. He tasted sweet, too sweet, and Aoba kind of liked that.

Aoba forced a laugh when they parted, light and airy and affecting a fake air of happiness.

“Sorry,” he said, waving Noiz’s hands away so he could clear his own tears. “I was just thinking stupid things.”

The tears he rubbed away were quickly replaced by more, fat and warm as they rolled down his cheeks, dripped from his jawline. They seemed never to stop, no matter how much he blinked, no matter how fast he was to wipe them away with his sleeve. Noiz frowned, eyebrows knit as he fretted, his hands limp for a moment before he was raising his arms, gathering Aoba in them and pulling him close. For his wiry frame, there was strong muscle beneath his skin, and he easily fitted Aoba into his lap, caging him into a hug.

“Sorry,” Aoba repeated.

“Don’t be,” Noiz said. He moved a hand to Aoba’s back, rubbing small circles against his shoulder blade.

Noiz continued to hold Aoba, not pressing or prodding, never forcing him to speak. Aoba buried his face in the crook of Noiz’s neck, sniffling against his skin, taking in the scent that was unique to him, light and nowhere near as musky as Aoba had suspected in the beginning. Almost sweet, airy. Kind.

“Please change the channel,” Aoba mumbled against Noiz as the couple continued to speak.

“Sure thing, babe,” Noiz said, freeing a hand to obey Aoba’s wish. The silence that follows is suffocating, and Aoba can nearly hear the cogs turning and clicking within Noiz’s head, goes tense when Noiz’s lips parted to speak.

“Are you homesick?”

Aoba nodded.

“Okay,” Noiz breathed. “Okay, that’s understandable. We’ll go back, alright?”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it, more than anything,” Noiz assured.

Aoba went boneless in Noiz’s hold at that, sagging against him in relief. As the minutes passed his tears began to stop of their own accord until they were nothing but the barest sniffles, his eyes aching and tired from the experience. Noiz’s hand trailed down his spine thoughtfully, nosing affectionately as Aoba’s hair.

“Feeling better?”

“A little.”

“Only a little? Mm, I’m afraid I can’t let you go yet, then.”

Aoba shifted in Noiz’s hold, leaning more heavily against him. He didn’t want to be let go.

“Would a shopping trip help?”

Aoba shook his head. The thought of having to pull himself together enough for an excursion was overwhelming enough in his current state.

“What about a shower?”

Aoba hummed softly. 

“What about not only a shower, but a blowjob as well?”

A chuckle made its way past Aoba’s lips as his cheeks flushed hotly at the thought. He brought a hand up to slap it against Noiz’s collarbones.

“Don’t say that sort of thing.”

“But I bet you’d feel a whole lot better afterwards, huh?”

The blush crept down Aoba’s neck.

“Maybe,” he said, more seriously than he meant.

“Well then, I think I know what’s in order for you,” Noiz said. 

He maneuvered his arms quickly under Aoba, hauling him up in his arms the same way he had on their wedding night. Aoba gave a huff, but it was forced and empty. He didn’t mind the show of strength, how secure he felt in Noiz’s arms as he was hefted into the bathroom. And he certainly didn’t mind when Noiz made good on his word that he’d make Aoba feel better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameo appearance of a baby crying on a plane.

Aoba brought Ren up to his face, gently pressing their foreheads together as the flight attendant’s voice came over the intercom, instructing that all electronics be powered down, ALLmates included.

“You rest easy, buddy,” Aoba murmured.

“As I hope you will as well,” Ren answered.

Aoba kept his forehead pressed to Ren’s as he put him into sleep mode, eyes closing as he took a steadying breath. It was only as he heard the pull and click of others buckling their seatbelts that he set Ren down on his lap and followed suit. He found himself idly adjusting Ren after that, stroking down flyaway tufts of fur, rearranging him until he was small and neat, fitted perfectly against Aoba’s thighs.

“Not fond of flying?” Noiz asked.

Aoba mustered a weak smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“Not even just that,” Aoba said.

Noiz nodded, thinning his lips. He didn’t press for details, instead looking ahead at the seat in front of him as he took to resting his arm on the armrest. Aoba glanced out the window at the tarmac, flinching when they started to move. He ran his hands over Ren again and again, trying to distract himself with the soft sensation of the synthetic fur. 

It wasn’t helping much. It helped even less when Noiz cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still looking straight ahead.

Aoba turned to look at Noiz, a crease forming between his brows as he furrowed them.

“For what?"

“For, shit. I don't know, everything. For ditching and then coming back only to cart you off to Germany like I did. I was being a selfish kid. Hell, I still am a selfish kid. Here I am, supposed to be your husband, and instead you're stuck babysitting me half the time."

Aoba's expression turned to one of bewilderment as Noiz's words sunk in. he struggled with a response, wetting his lips as he formulated his words. He shook his head once, the hair on the back of his neck prickling as the plane began to pick up speed. His hand found Noiz’s on the end of the armrest, fitting his fingers between Noiz’s, focusing his nervous attention on the touch, and not the weightless surge that was about to come.

“Don’t talk like that. You didn’t exactly get a normal upbringing, and I don’t expect you to be perfect. I’m not perfect either. It’s not about being perfect, Noiz. It’s about being together, and we are.”

Noiz let out a breath through pursed lips, his head inclining ever so slightly toward Aoba.

“I just wish I was better. Half the time something’s wrong, I only see it in hindsight.”

Aoba shut his eyes tightly as the plane lifted from the tarmac, his stomach clenching uneasily as the landing gear was withdrawn. Noiz’s fingers wiggled against his. Somewhere in the back, a child started crying.

“It's not like I give you a lot to work with," Aoba said. He knew he wasn't a saint, that he kept too much bottled up and tucked away.

“Why?" Noiz asked, his voice strained with frustration.

Aoba shrugged, letting his gaze fall to the window again, taking in the city below them that was rapidly becoming nothing more than an expanse of featureless civilization.

“It’s not fair to put it on you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re young,” Aoba said, like that explained everything. “It’s too much to expect you to deal with it.”

“I want to take care of you, Aoba. I know I’m kinda shit at it a lot of the time, but how am I supposed to learn if you won’t let me?”

Aoba thinned his lips as he thought it over. True, Noiz wasn’t locked away and kept from interaction anymore, but Aoba’s inability to communicate was effectively keeping him stunted. Part of him wanted it to stay that way, his soft heart wanting to protect Noiz from the real world he’d never learned to navigate. For all the love and adoration he held for Noiz, he was holding him back.

“Okay,” Aoba said, tilting his head until it came to rest on Noiz’s shoulder. “I’ll let you take care of me, or whatever. But you have to let me do the same.”

“Deal,” Noiz agreed, tipping his head against Aoba’s.

There was silence between them after that, fingers knit and heads together. It wasn’t until they’d reached cruising altitude, the seatbelt sign turning off, that Noiz spoke again.

“Hold my hand until it hurts,” Noiz said.

Aoba blinked, nuzzling into Noiz’s shoulder. 

“Come again?” he asked, unsure if he’d heard correctly, his ears not yet popped from the change in altitude. 

“Hold my hand until it hurts,” Noiz repeated.

Aoba hesitated.

“Remind me of how much I can feel.”

And with that, Aoba obliged.


	4. Chapter 4

When the plane landed, Aoba was sure that any sleep he’d had during the flight was a figment of his imagination. He held Ren in his arms as they disembarked, waking him from sleep mode on the way to the luggage carousel. He’s so tired that he misses their luggage on the first go, only noticing when Ren’s deep voice notifies him.

“Oh, right. I’ll get it on the next go around,” Aoba said around a yawn.

“Of course,” Ren said, tail wagging.

It took three times for Aoba to manage to snag their luggage, and he immediately regretted packing as much as he had. He really should have listened to Noiz’s assurances that they could buy whatever they needed on the island. 

“Need a little help?” Noiz asked when he found Aoba struggling to pull everything aside. He had the keys to a rental car around one finger, and twirled them idly before pocketing them.

“Maybe,” Aoba said, trying his damndest to keep Ren tucked under one arm while tugging their luggage along. Ren for his part was very patient, and seemed content despite the danger of being dropped.

Aoba relinquished his hold on the luggage when Noiz gestured for him to hand them over.

“You take care of Ren and I’ll handle the rest,” Noiz said. “As much as I appreciate your efforts, I’d rather not have you fall asleep on your feet before we make it to you Gran’s place.”

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Aoba insisted.

But he was. Bad enough that the second he slid into the passenger seat, his body turned to lead. 

“Aoba,” Ren said, placing his paws on Aoba’s chest. “It appears your cognitive functions are being adversely affected by your exhaustion.”

“And don’t I know it,” Aoba said, running a hand down Ren’s back before ruffling his hair.

“You kind of do look like death,” Noiz added, slipping the key into the ignition and starting the car. “Let’s hope they don’t think I’m taking poor care of you.”

Aoba barked out a tired laugh at that. His head lolled to the side, forehead resting against the window as the car started to move. He meant to sleep, told himself he would, but the bump and jostle of the road beneath him kept him awake. By the time the buildings they went by became familiar, he’d all but given up on sleeping until he made it to his own bed.

He got out of the car with a stretch and a sigh, Ren doing the same as he took his place by Aoba’s feet. He went around to the back of the car as Noiz popped the trunk, pulling the luggage from the back.

“Think she’ll make us doughnuts?” Noiz asked, bumping his hip against Aoba’s.

“Like we could stop her,” Aoba said, bumping Noiz back. “Knowing her, there’s already a mountain waiting for us.”

Noiz grinned lopsided and sweet at that, and it made Aoba’s heart squeeze. He leaned in to plant a quick peck on Noiz’s cheek, nearly squawking when Noiz returned the kiss with enthusiasm, and not on his cheek.

Ren leads them to the door, looking up at it expectantly as Aoba turns the knob, pushing the door open as he finds it unlocked. He was immediately aware of the sweet smell he’s all too familiar with. He stepped out of his shoes and shrugged off his coat before setting his luggage aside, craning his neck to look about the room.

“Granny? I’m home,” he called. He could hear the shuffle of her slippers against the kitchen tile.

“Then make yourself useful,” was her reply.

Aoba smiled. Some things would never change.

Pushing his sleeves up, Aoba went for the kitchen sink, soaping up his hands as he found Tae standing in front of a fryer, watching dough cook with hawk-like sharpness. She didn’t turn her head to look at him, but he could see the way her pale, thin lips quirked up in a smile. Aoba mimicked her smile and turn, wasting no time wrapping her up in his arms. 

She was frailer than he remembered, but he pushed the detail from his mind, smiling wider as her slight arms wrapped around him in turn.

“Walking in here like you own the place," she tutted. “Next thing you know, you'll be trying to move in."

Aoba chuckled as he held Tae tighter, gently rocking her in his arms. He missed her and her sass. Not to mention her cooking. But most of all, he missed the ease her company put him in. The seamless way she would accept him into her life, no matter what the case was. No matter what, her home would always be open to him.

“Now where’s that husband of yours?” Tae asked when Aoba’s arms fell away.

“Not far behind,” came Noiz’s voice as he entered the kitchen.

“Of course you wouldn’t be, not with doughnuts,” she said.

When Tae stepped forward and hugged Noiz as well, Noiz’s face took on a look of blank surprise. Aoba was sure his expression was mirrored. But then the moment broke, and Noiz hugged her back, half ginger and unsure, but his features turned from confused to at ease. He was part of the family, and Tae was making sure he knew.

When they parted, she clapped her hands together.

“Enough of being sentimental,” she said. “Leave it to you two to show up the minute Koujaku’s gone off to get groceries for dinner.”

Noiz made a face that said Koujaku’s absence was an utmost blessing. Tae caught it.

“Which he’ll be joining us for,” she added. “Set the table in the meantime and make yourselves comfortable after that. Lord knows you’ll only be underfoot if you stick around in the kitchen much longer.”

“Yes, Granny,” Aoba said, going to the cupboard for plates before Noiz cut him off, resting a hand on his forearm.

“You look like you’re asleep on your feet, babe. You take it easy and I’ll handle the rest.”

Aoba didn’t have the energy to argue, and he let his arm drop to his side. 

“Okay, but get me if you need anything,” Aoba said, kissing the corner of Noiz’s lips. “I’ll be upstairs.”

Nostalgia crashed over Aoba the moment he stepped foot into his room, his hand coming up to rest on the doorframe as he took it in. It was exactly the same as he’d left it, jacket and hat still hung up where he’d left them, an ashtray still on the small table.

“Talk about surreal,” Aoba murmured as he entered.

“It does seem somehow uncanny,” Ren said as he trotted after Aoba.

On his dresser, placed atop the stereo, he saw the familiar sight of his old pink headphones. He thought he’d lost them long ago, a casualty in the cross-continental move. He smiled to himself as he went over to them, picking them up and turning them over, thumbing a layer of dust from them as he hit the on switch. The sides blinked to life, and Aoba glanced down at Ren to find him already looking up.

“Like old times?” Aoba asked, sitting on the bed and setting his headphones around his neck before scooping Ren up and setting him on the bed.

“Like old times,” Ren repeated, trotting in a small circle before sitting. 

Aoba let himself fall on his side, drawing Ren close and curling around him protectively. He didn’t bring his headphones over his ears.

“Are you okay?” Aoba asked, smoothing a hand over Ren.

Ren blinked, eyes dark and deep, pink tongue barely lolling out.

“My systems are displaying no abnormalities,” he said.

“No, I mean... not like that. But what Noiz said got me thinking.” Aoba paused, recalling that he’d put Ren in sleep mode by that point. “He apologized for rushing me so much on my decision to go with him. And I guess it got me wondering if what I did to you was okay. Just kind of lugging you along without asking how you felt about it all.”

“As long as I am by Aoba’s side, I am happy,” Ren said without missing a beat.

Aoba chuckled, tweaking one of Ren's ears affectionately. 

“Do you know what happiness is?”

“I believe so.”

Aoba thought quietly on the matter. To know happiness, one had to have a standard of negative emotion for comparison.

“So then, do you know what sadness is?”

“It is best you rest, Aoba," Ren said.

Aoba sighed, drawing Ren to his chest and nuzzling into his fur.

“Yeah, I guess I should,” Aoba said, slipping his headphones over his ears at last. He hit play, and a familiar song started up, completing his nostalgia before he nodded off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is ready for Koujaku in the next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. I thought I uploaded this last week. Clearly, I did not. Sorry about the delay, now enjoy how sappy this is.

When Aoba woke, the room was dim. Not dark, not yet. Dusk, he figured, going to brush his forehead against Ren’s. Except Ren wasn’t there. The spot he’d been at was empty, and when Aoba patted it, it was still warm from his body. Aoba gave a lazy stretch before going to rub the sleep out of his eyes, not yet committed to getting up. It took him several minutes to even consider it, and as he mulled it over he noticed there was a dip in the mattress that hadn’t been there when he’d fallen asleep.

When he looked over his shoulder, he found Koujaku sitting on the edge of his bed, his gaze unfocused and distant.

“Earth to Koujaku,” Aoba said as he sat up, body aching.

Koujaku’s eyes lit as he turned his head- no, his entire body- to face Aoba.

“Awake at last, I see,” he said. His voice was calm and warm, an immediate comfort. 

“Mm, awake is pushing it,” Aoba said as he rolled his shoulders. “Thinking some deep thoughts, or do you usually stare into space these days?”

The corner of Koujaku’s lip quirked up.

“Just remembering something from a long time ago,” Koujaku said. 

They took a moment to stare at one another, Aoba’s words leaving him, lips thinning as the silence went on. To see Koujaku in the flesh again was surreal and welcome all at once, like something that couldn’t be. But here he was, alive and well and looking the same. Well, mostly. The longer Aoba studied him, the more he saw it. The slight dulling of his hair, the sallow shade of his skin. How worn his smile was.

Moving to his knees, Aoba wasted no time in sliding his arms around Koujaku’s neck, pulling him close in a hug. He could smell the faint scent of smoke on Koujaku, and the light fragrance he’d never been able to identify, never had found anywhere but on Koujaku. It reminded him of long passed days, snatches of childhood memories flashing in his mind. Koujaku protecting him from bullies. Koujaku waiting with him for the return of Tae. Koujaku taking care of him again and again.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Koujaku said, slipping his arms around Aoba in turn, one hand rubbing small circles against his back.

“Figured I owed everyone a visit,” Aoba said. His voice cracked a little, and he tried to swallow the sound down. Overwhelmed, tears prickled at the corner of his eyes.

“Are you going to start crying?” Koujaku asked in mock disbelief. 

“Of course not, idiot,” Aoba sniffed. Guilt was creeping into his thoughts, reminding him that he’d never said goodbye to anyone aside from Tae.

“You cried so much as a kid, Aoba. It’d be okay if you cried now,” Koujaku said, voice softer than before.

“I’m not crying,” Aoba said, hitting his forehead against Koujaku’s shoulder. He was crying. He shut his eyes and rubbed them against Koujaku’s shoulder, dampening his kimono. “I’m sorry for bailing.”

Koujaku went stiff at that, his hand pausing.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Koujaku said, his hand beginning to move again. He thumbed one of the knobs of Aoba’s spine. “Let’s talk about something else. Like the fact Tae is going to kill me for not getting your downstairs for dinner yet.”

Aoba laughed and sniffed at once, his muscles going slack as he concentrated on pulling himself together. The last thing he needed was to show up at the dinner table with red, puffy eyes. He didn’t trust Noiz not to tack the blame on Koujaku.

When the tears had stopped and his breathing was deep and even, he eased out of the hug, sitting back to glance at Koujaku.

“Do I look okay?”

“You always do,” Koujaku said.

“You’re such a frickin’ dope,” Aoba snorted, getting to his feet and offering Koujaku a hand. He tugged Koujaku to his feet with an exaggerated huff and smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt.

He took the stairs two at a time, the smell of a hot meal reawakening his appetite. He found Ren and Beni in the living room, Beni perched atop Ren’s head and carrying on a breathless rant that Ren listened to in silence. Aoba gave the both of them a small wave as he padded into the kitchen, finding Noiz already seated and Tae ladling out steaming bowls of curry.

“About time,” she grunted

Dinner was not an entirely stress-free event. Koujaku had a bad case of selective hearing that seemed to apply only to Noiz, ignoring whatever came out of his mouth, from requests to pass the salt, to thinly veiled insults. Koujaku and Noiz both earned kicks under the table for their behaviors, courtesy of Aoba. He wasn't above bringing his heel down on toes, or knocking against a shin to bring them both into line.

By the time they’d eaten their fill, their catty behavior had burned itself out, manifesting now only as sharp glares and a vague, uneasy air.

The first to stand, Aoba was quick to collect their empty plates, pecking the top of Noiz’s head as he did so. Aoba could practically feel Koujaku rolling his eyes, and stuck his tongue out in retaliation. Koujaku was a big boy, he could deal with it. Or so Aoba liked to think. Sometimes he wondered how much strength of his was real, and how much was feigned, nothing more than an act.

As Aoba ran hot water into the sink and worked up a lather to wash the dishes in, Noiz came to stand beside him, hip nudging against Aoba’s to move him aside.

“Nope, no way,” Aoba said. “It’s your turn to rest, let me deal with the clean-up.”

“But, babe-”

“Don’t you ‘babe’ me, mister. If you want to be helpful, maybe think about doing a little unpacking.”

“Fine, fine,” Noiz said, bumping his hip against Aoba’s again, their shoulders brushing. “Guest room’s upstairs and down the hall, yes?”

Koujaku made a choked noise of disdain.

“I’d rather you not sleep in the same bed as me,” he sniffed.

“In your dreams, old man,” Noiz said.

“That’s enough from you two,” Tae interrupted. “Koujaku is a guest, just as you are. He’ll be in the guest room, and that’s final.”

There was a heavy silence as Aoba and Noiz glanced at one another. 

“As you’re married adults, I’m sure Aoba will have no problem sharing a bed with you,” Tae said. “But if it is an issue, there’s always a couch.”

“ _Score_ ,” Noiz murmured under his breath, eyes bright with what Aoba could only assume were indecent thoughts.

“There’s always the couch,” Aoba echoed, shooting Noiz a pout. “So think twice about any funny stuff.”

“I’ll think twice about it and then some,” Noiz teased, giving Aoba a fond pat that was too near to his ass to be anything but intentional before he left the kitchen. 

Aoba shook his head with a sigh as he grabbed a sponge, dipping a plate under hot water and beginning to scrub away at it. His hands were tense and rough, his thoughts straying to what stunts Noiz would surely try to pull on him later in the night. The longer he scoured pots and pans and plates, the redder his cheeks got. That punk kid, leave it to him to get under Aoba’s skin with only a few words.

By the time he finished cleaning up, he found the kitchen empty of any company. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and surveyed the empty room, pausing when he heard voices from the living room, their words too far away to understand. Aoba moved closer to the noise, footsteps light as he approached the doorway of the living room. He halted as the voices started again, quick to identify them this time.

Noiz and Ren.

“Your concern is admirable,” Ren said. 

“Way to deflect,” Noiz said. He sounded tired. So, so tired. “All I’m asking is if you’d tell me if he was unhappy.”

“If I felt it my duty to notify you, I would do so,” Ren responded. 

Noiz snorted. It was a noise Aoba knew, the sound Noiz made whenever work was becoming too much and his frustration was on the rise. 

“Alright, keep playing like you’re some store display ALLmate that has nothing but stock answers to give. Not like I’m not onto you already.”

“I fail to understand the meaning of your words,” Ren said.

“There’s only so much personality AI can affect. You’re different, Ren. You’re more than an ALLmate.”

“Incorrect,” Ren said, so quick it seemed he was trying to cut Noiz off. “I am an ALLmate. Unit model SC-017P, manufacture date-”

“Look,” Noiz interrupted, his voice a sigh. “I get that you want to be Aoba’s babysitter, or guardian, or whatever. I’m not trying to kick you out of the picture, never have and never will. But you have to get that I want to take care of him too. Two heads are better than one, don’t you think?”

The air was heavy with silence, and Aoba worried his lower lip as he waited for Ren to respond. Noiz and Ren had never been the closest, but he figured they were at least on semi-friendly terms. There was a tension to their conversation he couldn’t deny, though.

“If Aoba is unhappy,” Ren said, “I will notify you.”

Aoba let out a breath of relief that mirrored Noiz’s own. The tension ebbed, pulling away like low tide. Aoba tried not to think about the fact they were speaking about him, instead listening to the jingle of Ren collar as he trotted up the stairs, Noiz’s footfalls following not long after. When Aoba peered into the living room, there was no one left.

He waited five minutes before heading upstairs, his own door half closed when he approached it. He rapped his knuckles softly against it before he eased it open. The first thing he spotted was Noiz on his bed, a screen projected from his coil. Noiz looked up with an easy smile as the screen closed, his hand beckoning Aoba closer.

“Oi, you promised you wouldn’t work while we were here,” Aoba scolded as he padded closer.

“Just checking my emails,” Noiz said. 

“That’s still work,” Aoba noted as he reached the bed, crawling onto it, and mostly on Noiz. He let his body collapse, stomach hitting the mattress with a thunk before he took to using Noiz’s shoulder as a pillow. Aoba felt suddenly very heavy, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back up.

“Still tired?” Noiz asked, working his arm under Aoba to cradle him close.

“Mmhmm.”

A shiver ran through his nerves as Noiz toyed with a lock of hair. It didn’t hurt, not anymore, but there was still a sensitivity that ran through it, a barely-there undercurrent.

“Need help getting into the shower?” Noiz offered, voice cheeky and light.

Aoba shook his head, eyelids already starting to close. “Go on without me.”

“Nah, I could never leave you behind. Hell, I don’t think I could manage a shower on my own at this point either,” he confessed.

Aoba nosed Noiz’s side, his breath even and deep with exhaustion. His stomach was full, his body weary. It occurred to him that he was still in the same clothes he’d gotten on the plane with, and that struck him as a little gross. 

“Pajamas,” he mumbled, forcing his muscles to push himself to his knees. 

He grabbed the hem of his sweater and tugged it over his head in a single motion, dropping it to the floor. His shirt went next, and after that his fingers found their way to his jeans. It took entirely too much energy and fussing to kick them off, and in the end he found himself flopping on the mattress again, awkwardly attempting to work off his socks using his feet. It was a fruitless endeavor, and his worn mind started to convince him that socks and underwear was completely appropriate sleepwear.

Noiz was soon in the same state, though he had more success with his socks. He managed to rouse Aoba enough to pull the covers back, the both of them using the last of their strength to crawl beneath them. They fitted together beneath the blankets with ease, two puzzle pieces slotting together. 

Skin on skin, shared body warmth. Aoba yawned once as he wriggled his way to complete comfort, hand curling loosely against Noiz’s bare chest, resting over where his heart was. Noiz’s arm was around him once again, keeping Aoba in the cradle of his arm. Aoba licked his lips sleepily as his eyes shut, skin tingling wherever it came into contact with Noiz. 

“Thank you, Noiz,” he murmured softly.

“Hm, for what?”

“You know. Everything.”

Aoba could nearly feel Noiz’s chest swell with pride.

“Anytime, babe,” he said, voice low and sincere.

The bed dipped ever so slightly as Ren leapt up, taking a space near their feet, curling up small and neat. Aoba smiled, too drained to care that the lights were still on.

“Night, Ren,” Aoba said.

“Good night, Aoba,” Ren returned.

“And night to you too, Noiz,” Aoba said.

Noiz’s lips brushed the top of his head. “Sleep easy.”

“Love you,” Aoba added.

“Love you, too.”

“And you,” Aoba said, wriggling his toes beneath the covers until they nudged Ren. “Love you too.”

Ren didn’t respond, but Aoba could hear the swish of his tail as it wagged, and that was enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a long chapter. (Compared to the previous ones, I mean.)

The next day passed all too quickly, all nonstop visits and outings. Mizuki dropped in to rib him about flying the coop, though his teasing turned to a low whistle when he got a good look at Aoba’s wedding ring. His voice was warm and chipper as they spoke, gestures wide and dramatic as they’d always been as he recounted everything that had happened during Aoba’s absence.

There was a hollow to his cheeks that hadn’t gone away yet, and sometimes he had to stop speaking a moment to regain his breath. Getting his words in order, he called it. Aoba knew better. His heart ached cold each time it happened, the cause of it something neither of them were willing to bring back to light.

But when they hugged, it was genuine and strong. A near suffocating hold on Mizuki’s part, with a grip that said he’d been waiting ages to do it. Aoba kept his hug more gentle, a fear of hurting Mizuki again buzzing in the back of his mind. He nuzzled against the scarf that was wound heavily around Mizuki’s neck, taking in the scent of leather and smoke and some kind of antiseptic. Aoba wondered what Mizuki’s neck looked like now.

He didn’t ask about it.

They walked the streets of Midorijima as they had countless times before, this time with Mizuki pointing out the slow but sure changes, the cleaner streets and new storefronts. Noiz splintered off from them as they walked the mainstream, promising to meet them back at the house as he made for a specialty ALLmate shop. While not unheard of in Germany, ALLmates were hardly as common, their service shops far and few inbetween.

Aoba linked arms with Mizuki after that, taking in the streets as he hadn’t before. They were different, sure. He’d expected that much. What he hadn’t expected was to barely recognize the area, the bright and clean storefronts, the bustling, cleaned up crowds something that didn’t match with his memories. 

When they stopped at an old haunt for lunch, the owners were different, the cliental more tame. The menu no longer had his favorite, and there was a pang in his heart, a yearning for a past that would never return.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Mizuki asked after their orders had been taken, elbows on the table as he leaned in.

“Came and went, pal,” Aoba said, flashing his ring.

Mizuki laughed, rough and warm as he waved Aoba off. “Doesn’t apply in Japan. Don’t tell me you’re not going to have another ceremony here. Don’t tell me I’ll never get to walk you down the aisle.”

Anxiety prickled beneath Aoba’s skin, crawling up his neck as the subject of a second ceremony was broached. It was inevitable he’d be prodded about it, but the thought of putting it all together, and in a country he no longer lived in, was an overwhelming thought from beginning to end.

“Eventually,” was all Aoba could say. “It’ll happen eventually.”

“Better keep your word,” Mizuki said.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Mizuki blinked, turned his head toward the door of the restaurant as it was opened. He did that a lot, eyes darting whenever someone was coming or going, flinching when others passed too close. Koujaku had said Mizuki couldn’t recall what had led him to be inducted into Morphine, what motivated him to do what he’d done, but the effects of it still manifested in these nervous behaviors.

“Well, I dunno. You kinda just up and left before, you know? I don’t want you leaving this time and never showing up again,” Mizuki said. His voice was small, almost stuttering, like he was embarrassed to admit to it. 

Aoba’s stomach twisted.

“Don’t be so silly,” Aoba assured, reaching forward to cover Mizuki’s hands with your own. “I wouldn’t rob Granny of getting to see my own wedding. Plus, like you said, you’ve gotta walk me down the aisle.”

The mental image of it all made Aoba snort, his hands squeezing Mizuki’s.

Mizuki’s expression calmed at that, his shoulders sagging with relief.

When their food was served, their conversation became sparse as they ate. Aoba did his best not to notice the tremor in Mizuki’s hand, how he fumbled his chopsticks and dropped his food more often than he got it in his mouth. Guilt flared hot in Aoba’s chest, clutching his heart and squeezing it in its grasp. Aoba licked his lips nervously and looked down at his own plate, a simple sandwich.

He pushed it toward Mizuki.

“Maybe that’ll be easier,” Aoba said vaguely. He didn’t want to look at Mizuki, but he did. Mizuki wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead pulling thoughtlessly at his scarf, gaze downcast.

“Thanks,” Mizuki said, pushing his own food at Aoba in a trade. “Getting a little ahead of myself, I guess.”

“No problem,” Aoba said, tucking into Mizuki’s original meal.

They set out on foot once again after finishing their food, Aoba’s arm linked through Mizuki’s, his pace leisurely. Mizuki took him to see Dry Juice’s territory, familiar faces waving hello and greeting Aoba, asking polite questions as to where he’d been, how he was. He answered them all with a cheery voice and succinct explanations, accepting their congratulations on his marriage.

”What was it like?” Mizuki asked as they rounded a corner, he shifted an almost imperceptible amount of weight onto Aoba, and Aoba shortened and slowed his stride.

“Hm?”

“The wedding.”

“Oh, that,” Aoba said. A blush crept up his neck, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he recalled the day. “It was nice. Quiet, too.”

“His family show up?”

Aoba shrugged. “His brother did.” Aoba left out he’d been their only witness.

Mizuki tutted and shook his head. “Well they didn’t know what they were missing. Bet’cha looked like a real catch in your wedding dress.”

“As if,” Aoba said, squeezing Mizuki’s arm. “Tuxes all the way.”

He didn’t add that his tuxedo had been a pure white, or that he’d worn a veil. Those details were minor, and sure to get him teased.

“Just you wait,” Mizuki said, and he made a noise that Aoba couldn’t identify, a mix between a sigh and a labored breath. “I’ll butter Noiz up with a few drinks and get photos from him then.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Aoba said, fully away that, yes, Mizuki would dare.

Aoba walked with Mizuki until they came to a halt outside of the hospital. The afternoon was slowly turning to evening, and Mizuki’s physical therapy appointment was hot on its heels. They stood in front of the sliding glass doors of the hospital, staring at their reflections before the door slid open.

“You should come visit us. Me and Noiz, I mean,” Aoba said suddenly, gripping Mizuki’s arm to stop him from leaving.

“In Germany?”

“Well duh, where else? It’d be nice, I think. You’d like it.”

Mizuki smiled, teeth white against his skin, open and brilliant.

“I’d like that,” he said.

“Then it’s a deal,” Aoba said, reining Mizuki in for a quick hug. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Don’t give the nurses too much trouble.”

“No promises from a spitfire like me," Mizuki said with a wave. His steps were small and lacked an innate rhythm, and Aoba watched him until he'd reached the front desk before turning around and heading back.

He kept his hands warm in his pockets as he walked, pace brisk as the sunlight started to dwindle. He backtracked twice along the way, turning down streets he didn’t recall from before, roads that were clean and recently repaved. He found himself wandering through an alley he recalled using as a shortcut, halting mid-stride when he saw the back of two nearly identical blond heads.

And two nearly identical fashionably-disinclined outfits.

Aoba thinned his lips as their voices reached his ears, chattering softly, their conversation nothing more than a back of forth of compliments and high and mighty assurances of how well they were doing. Aoba shifted onto the heels for a moment before he found himself back out of the alley one step at a time, never turning his back to then. This was one circus act he didn’t have the energy to entertain, especially not alone.

He hurried off after that, sticking to crowded streets, weaving between people and keeping his head down until he reached his own neighborhood. The lights of the house were already on, and when he stepped inside he found the living room warm and inviting, albeit empty. He left his shoes by the door as he made for his room, taking the stairs two at a time as he wondered if Noiz had made it back yet.

He found the door to his room already ajar, the lights on. He slipped in to find no one there, and hoping Noiz would return soon, decided to treat himself to a short nap. This time, he managed to get his socks off as he lay down on his bed, Ren hopping up and dutifully curling into a small ball next to him. Aoba reached for his headphones, ready to pull them over his ears when he heard them talking.

Noiz and Koujaku.

When Aoba glanced toward his balcony, he could see their silhouettes against the sunset. Aoba slowly put his headphones back on the nightstand, ready to feign sleep if either of them turned around. But neither did, Koujaku leaning on the railing instead as Noiz scuffed his foot against the ground. The sliding door was still open, and Aoba could hear the uneasy shifting of their weight.

"You're lucky to have had someone like Aoba to help you," he said

"Yeah," Noiz agreed. It was the most civil tone Aoba had heard him use with Koujaku since... forever.

"That's it, yeah? It's that small of a deal to you?"

"I never said that. I don't have to spout off how I'd kiss his boots- which, even for my sense of taste, were atrocious- in gratitude in order to prove it.”

They were both quiet then, arms folded across the balcony, Koujaku taking a long drag him his cigarette. He held the smoke in longer than he usually did before he breathed it out. Aoba was surprised he even knew, deep down, how long he usually held it for.

"You make it sound like he wouldn't help you. Aoba, I mean."

"Who says I need help?" Koujaku said, too hasty to be casual.

"Shit, let's think about it. Presumably successful guy in his career, lauded by the masses, and still a sorry, hapless shmuck that keeps everyone at arms length. Not to mention your emo bang you have going on."

"I can handle my problems on my own."

Noiz kicked the toe of his shoe against a slat of the balcony. It rattled softly.

"You can tell yourself that, fine. What I'm saying is that Aoba wouldn't mind helping you. Like, if you want to think I'm a big bad for stealing him away, then fine. But don't think I changed him. I loved- and still love Aoba for who he was, who he is. I didn’t take him to Germany to brainwash him into turning against you.”

“Huh,” Koujaku snorted. “Never thought I could hear that many words out of your mouth and not have any of them be an insult. Must be some sort of record.”

“I’m serious, Koujaku,” Noiz said.

“I never said you weren’t. But there are some things I can’t tell him.”

"Why not?"

"Why do you think? The same reason every other person holds back. Because they don't want things to change, they don't want to be viewed differently."

"They don't want to be pitied?" Noiz casually added.

Koujaku laughed cold and hollow. It didn't sound like a laugh at all.

"If only that was the worst of it."

"Tell you what," Noiz said, slapping his hand down on the railing. "You already know I have a shit opinion of you that's not about to change, and I've seen gravel more pitiable than you. So fess up, old man, my mind isn't going to change about jack shit."

"Maybe some other time," Koujaku said, stepping back from the railing.

"That's not a no," Noiz noted.

"Maybe some other time," Koujaku repeated.

"Here's the thing, if I thought you meant that, I'd drop it,” Noiz said, turning his head from side to side until it cracked. “But you don't mean it. You're brushing me off. Here's my offer: the night's young, and we've got oil to burn. Let's hit up a bar and you can spill all your fucking guts out to me like you never could to Aoba. Hell, maybe I’ll share some of my own messed up shit if it makes you feel better."

Koujaku waited so long to respond that Aoba thought he wouldn't.

"Deal, but drinks are on you."

Noiz chuckled low as he stepped back from the railing in turn, and Aoba quickly shut his eyes when Noiz turned to go back inside.

“Huh, looks like we got a sleeping beauty on our hands,” Noiz said as he stepped over the threshold. His footsteps were light as he approached the bed, clothes rustling as he crouched down. “You awake?”

Aoba pretended not to have heard Noiz, forcing his breath to mimic the deep and even rhythm of sleep.

“Babe,” Noiz tried again, voice a soft croon. He brought a hand up to cup Aoba’s face, leaning in close until their lips brushed.

“Mm,” Aoba murmured, forcing a yawn when Noiz pulled back. He blinked slowly and, he hoped, convincingly sleepy. 

“Long day?” Noiz asked.

Aoba nodded, nuzzling into Noiz’s palm.

“You stay and rest up then. Me and Koujaku are going to head out for drinks. Want us to grab anything for you while we’re out?”

Aoba shook his head.

“Alright, then. Don’t stay up too late for us, okay?”

Aoba nodded, ready this time when Noiz leaned in for a kiss. He liked that Noiz would wake him when he left, no matter if it was for groceries, or at 2 am when he left early to catch a flight. After his stunt with disappearing for three months, he’d never left Aoba’s side without alerting him first.

The second Aoba heard the two of them leave the house, he sat up in bed so quickly Ren rolled off his chest. With a murmured apology, Aoba brought up his coil and picked out Mizuki’s name from his contact list.

"Heads up, Noiz and Koujaku heading your way."

Mizuki’s response came minutes later.

"Good thing I just upped my insurance."

"Keep an eye on them, okay? They're bad enough when they're sober, I don't even want to think about what they'll get up to when they're drunk."

"Can do, blue. How about I put together a betting pool on which of them will throw the first punch?"

“Don't you dare."

And with that, Aoba set his coil aside, letting his legs hang over the side of the bed as he pulled Ren into his lap. Ren looked up at him with deep, dark eyes, ears perked forward as his tail wagged softly.

“Think they'll make it back in one piece?" Aoba asked.

“In spite of their previous interactions, I believe Noiz's intentions are genuine."

Aoba side-eyed Ren.

“That doesn't answer my question, y'know."

Ren resettled his weight, and Aoba rolled his eyes. He tucked Ren under his arm as he stood, trudging downstairs to distract himself by watching TV. He indulged in all the trashy shows he'd missed while in Germany, found every commercial fresh and new. It was a comfort to be wrapped up again in his native tongue, able to understand each word without a struggle.

When his stomach took to grumbling, he wandered into the kitchen. There was a note on the fridge from Granny, stating she'd be out of town for the night while treating a patient. Aoba had figured as much. The note also read that there was dinner already in the fridge, followed by instructions for how hot to run the oven, and how long to cook the dish for. There was a P.S. mentioning not to leave the oven on.

Aoba smiled as he pulled the foil-covered dish from the fridge, setting it on the stove top as he turned the oven on. He checked his coil as he waited for it to preheat. No new messages. He frowned. No news was good news, right? Right. Except he couldn't let it be, not with the history those two oafs had.

“Status report?" he texted Mizuki

He was sliding the dish into the oven by the time his coil went off.

"Christmas miracle."

“For once, I can't tell if you're kidding or not."

“100% not razzing you. This shit is ridic.”

Aoba scrubbed a hand over his face as he leaned his hip against the kitchen counter, staring at the response in a muted sort of disbelief. 

“Awesome, but do me a favor and keep an eye on them anyway,” he typed back

“You got it.”

Shaking his head, Aoba went back to the living room, passing the time with more TV until Ren was nudging at his arm, reminding him to take dinner out of the oven. And then, consequently, to turn it off. Aoba waved Ren off with a huff, saying he didn't need to be told again. 

After setting the table for himself, Aoba picked Ren up and set him in another chair. Ren sat up, placing his paws on the tablecloth. 

“Kinda surreal, isn't it?" Aoba asked, spearing a mouthful of vegetables.

“How so?" Ren asked in turn.

Aoba chewed thoughtfully, pushing his food around his plate for a moment, staring into a spot of gravy like it held the answers to all of life's questions. It didn't, and eventually he had to speak again.

“I don't know," he started. “I mean, I guess I do know, but it's hard to put into words."

“I take no issue in waiting for you to accurately convey your thoughts," Ren said.

Aoba smiled lopsidedly at that. 

“This is going to sound bad, but being here, going through these motions again, it made me realize I never really expected to come back. Like I was never going to be able to leave Germany.”

Ren nodded once. 

“Don’t get me wrong, though,” Aoba said. “It’s not that I wanted to ditch everyone, but it seemed like such a huge ordeal to go back and forth. And then having to ask Noiz to take the time off work to come with me...”

“Have you considered traveling along?” Ren asked.

“Ren,” Aoba said, voice touchy. “It’s not that easy. You know it’s not that easy.”

“I apologize, I should not have suggested such an idea,” Ren said, affecting as sorry a tone as his sedate voice would allow.

Of course traveling alone was an option, but in a perfect world. A world where Aoba’s parents hadn’t left, a world where Noiz hadn’t up and vanished when their relationship was in its fledgling stages. A world where the fear of being abandoned yet again didn’t eat away at his every thought when he was left alone. 

Aoba managed to finish only half his meal, appetite fading the more he thought. He rewrapped the dish and slid it back into the fridge, steps slow and sluggish as he went back upstairs. He peeled his clothes off and tossed them in the hamper, going through his luggage for his pajamas. He managed to hit the lights this time as he crawled into bed, keeping the covers lifted until Ren crawled under them.

“I did not mean to speak out of turn,” Ren said as Aoba stroked the top of his head.

“Mm, don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up, anyway.”

“However,” Ren started, “I would like for you to know that regardless of the state of others in your life, you will never be alone while I am running.” 

Aoba smiled, tapping his index finger against Ren’s nose. He didn’t give Ren credit enough for what he did, putting up with Aoba’s shenanigans, always being the quiet voice of reason in the face of any situation. Dog-loyal, he’d never strayed from Aoba’s side for even a moment.

“You’re a good boy,” Aoba said as he shut his eyes. 

He cradled Ren to his chest after that, enjoying the electric warmth Ren provided, nodding off to the white noise of Ren’s running motor. He slept deep and easy, dreamless and undisturbed until the hours of the night that bordered on morning. Noiz was what stirred him, the cold causing Aoba to curl in on himself when the covers were lifted.

“Hurry up and get in,” Aoba mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes. “Or I’ll freeze to death.”

“As you wish," Noiz said, easing under the covers. His skin was soft, and there was a smell of soap and cleanliness to him. In spite of it, the smoke and alcohol of the bar still clung to him.

When Aoba went to set Ren aside, Noiz stopped him. He lay on his side facing Aoba, keeping Ren between the two of them as he closed the space between them. Before long the bed had warmed again, and Aoba’s drifted back to sleep, Ren pressed to his chest, and Noiz’s hand resting on his waist.


	7. Chapter 7

Aoba had never hallucinated before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment in how mundane his first was, though. Most people saw fantastical things, warped realities and fantasies. What Aoba saw Noiz sitting in the kitchen, lazily straddling a chair with a towel draped over his shoulders.

Behind him stood Koujaku, scissors and comb in hand. Aoba waited in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand as he waited for the last traces of sleep to lift from his mind. But even when the fog of drowsiness lifted from his thoughts, the scene before him stayed the same. He shuffled toward the coffee maker to see if caffeine could banish the phantasm in the kitchen.

It was still happening on his second cup of coffee, Koujaku carefully snipping away, tufts of blond falling to the floor. Koujaku hummed to himself, standing back on occasion to admire his own handiwork, hand on his hip as he tutted before swooping in for another snip. Aoba sat at the table, watching the two of them, waiting for one to make a jab at the other, for an argument to bubble over. For some kind of normalcy.

It never came.

Instead Koujaku finished the job, taking the towel from around Noiz’s neck and folding it up before brushing a few errant strands from Noiz’s shoulder. Noiz checked his reflection with his coil, turning his head from side to side before he nodded in approval.

“Not too shabby,” Noiz said.

“Are you two still drunk or something?” Aoba asked, slowly coming to terms with the fact that this was really happening. That Dumb and Dumber were actually, kind of, maybe getting along. 

“As if I’d drink before working,” Koujaku sniffed, play-offended. “Even on someone like Noiz, I wouldn’t do anything but my best.”

Noiz stood from his seat before cracking his back, giving Aoba a quick kiss to the forehead as he passed him by on his way to the fridge.

“Old man offered to give me a trim last night, figured I’d take him up on it and see if all the fuss about his skills was true.”

Koujaku smiled to himself, chest swelling with pride as he folded his arms. “And as you can see, it is. Maybe next time Aoba will be the one to step up to the plate.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” Aoba chided, running a hand through his hair, twisting the ends around his fingers. 

He wondered exactly what had transpired last night to set up these starter blocks of friendship between Noiz and Koujaku. Where Aoba had hoped only that punches wouldn’t be thrown, it seemed something beyond his wildest dreams had transpired. What it was, he didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. Whatever had happened, it was a relief that Koujaku and Noiz seemed to be, at the very least, tolerating one another.

A Christmas miracle indeed.

The day continued to pass with an eerie sort of normalcy. It wasn’t the same as before, the people and the streets having changed, but it was close enough to be a comfort. Aoba peered out the window and up to the sky, watching dark clouds gather on the horizon. By the time they’d rolled in, dusk was quickly approaching.

When the rain began to patter against the window panes, Noiz was the first one to the sill, watching the droplets splash against the outside. He placed a hand on the glass, eyes unfocused as he stared outside. Aoba came to stand beside him, looking out into the darkened streets for a moment before unlatching the window and pushing it open.

Noiz withdrew his hand, seemed to withdraw his entire being, even. He took a step back, safe from the few droplets that splashed against the sill. 

“It won’t bite,” Aoba said lightly as he held his hand outside, letting the water splash against his hand.

Noiz didn’t move closer.

“Come on, think of it like a shower. Just colder.”

“Why would I want to take a cold shower?

“Noiz,” Aoba sighed, side-eyeing him. It wasn’t news to him that Noiz was skittish around rain. Aoba had never seen him out in it unless he was bundled up, gloves on his hands and an umbrella protecting his face. “Please?”

“What if I don’t like it?” Noiz asked.

It was a question Aoba had become overly familiar with since Noiz’s sensation had returned. For all the new he had discovered he liked, from cool breezes on hot days to shoulder rubs after a long work week, he was still innately wary of first time experiences for fear of them being bad. There was a reason legos weren’t allowed in the apartment.

“I wouldn’t have you try anything if I thought you wouldn’t like it,” Aoba said.

Noiz frowned, but moved closer nonetheless. He held his hand out slowly, mimicking Aoba’s motion. He let the rain fall against his skin, fingers loosely curling. His frown turned neutral the longer he held his hand out, and soon his brows were knitting as the sensation was catalogued in his mind.

“So how is it?” Aoba asked.

“Nothing like showering,” Noiz said.

“Is it at least tolerable?” Aoba asked.

Noiz nodded before leaning out the window, rain coming down on his forearm for a moment before he was pulling back inside the safety of the house. He wiped his wet arm and hand on Aoba, and Aoba returned the favor. Noiz looked half offended at the retaliation, doing his best to dodge Aoba’s touch. It was a useless endeavor, and the second Aoba had dried his hand he was slipping his arms around Noiz’s waist, tugging him close until their chests were pressed together. 

Noiz regarded him with a muted sort of suspicion until Aoba kissed the tip of his nose. 

“What’s been your favorite new thing to experience?” Aoba asked.

Noiz stared at him bluntly.

“Okay, not including that.”

Noiz hummed, pressing a kiss to Aoba’s forehead. “This,” he announced.

“This?” Aoba questioned.

“This,” Noiz repeated, this time kissing the corner of Aoba’s brow. “And this.” He kissed the corner of his eye. “But especially this.” 

He held the kiss a second longer when it came to Aoba’s lips, breath tickling against Aoba’s skin as it blushed. When Aoba pulled back to turn his head away. He chewed the inside of his cheek, bringing his hands up to thump against Noiz’s chest.

“You always liked kissing, even before everything happened,” Aoba said.

“And I never said it changed.”

“You’re so impossible,” Aoba said, shaking his head as he leaned more heavily into Noiz. What a corny, stupid kid, whipping out these lame lines like it was nothing. 

Aoba loved it. He loved Noiz. He loved the thoughtless words that spilled from his lips every time he spoke. The way his hair stuck up when he slept on his side, and that he couldn’t brush his teeth without getting toothpaste foam everywhere. He loved the low drag of Noiz’s voice when he came home from work, bone-tired but still able to smile for Aoba. He could tell from a glance when Aoba’s head ached, drawing the curtains and sitting quietly with him in the dark until the worst passed.

“Let’s go outside,” Noiz said, rubbing a small circle at the base on Aoba’s back.

Aoba quirked a brow. “But it’s still raining.”

Noiz shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll end up liking it.”

\---

It was on the last day of their trip, goodbyes already said and bags packed, that Aoba found himself sitting on the couch with Noiz. The sides of their thighs touched, and his hand came to rest on Noiz's knee. It felt absurdly domestic, like he was going to fess up to wanting a child, or a summer home. At least the funds for a manicure and a margarita.

"I want to visit more," Aoba said.

Noiz shrugged, no part of him tensing. "Fine by me. Not going to stop you from wanting to come home."

"No," Aoba said, shaking his head and pausing to bite his lip. "This isn't my home. It was, sure. For a long time even, but it's not anymore."

Noiz went silent. Aoba waited for a response, and it came. Not in spoken form, but in the way Noiz leaned against his shoulder, soft and giving. Adoring. Aoba let his head rest against Noiz’s, taking in the sweet scent of his shampoo and the traces of his cologne. Noiz smelled like home. 

"Every eight weeks good for you?" Noiz asked. He settled one hand over Aoba's and squeezed lightly. “The old man said that's how often I'd need a trim, anyway."

Aoba’s thoughts stuttered as he realized how easy this was. Noiz hadn’t put up the least of a fight, giving in as easily as sand beneath waves. He’d come so far from the constantly wary brat Aoba had met, afraid to trust, afraid to let others be kind to him for fear that it was some underhanded tactic. He’d even tempered himself for Koujaku, their truce still standing, the jabs they exchanged over dinner now empty and without malice.

“Aoba?” Noiz prompted. “You still there?”

Aoba swallowed and nodded, posture stiffening as he came back to the present.

“All I ask is one thing,” Noiz said, and Aoba’s breath slowed as he waited for the singular condition. “That you marry me again. Here, in Midorijima.”

Aoba let out a laugh, warm and full, his chest shaking with it.

”Of course,” he said. ”Of course I‘ll marry you again. Mizuki get on your case about it?”

”Yeah, not to mention your old lady and Koujaku too. I told them I wasn’t sure if your perpetual state of embarrassment would let you walk down the aisle again, but then I figured if it was four against one we’d convince you.”

“Oh, so I never had a choice to begin with?”

“Nah,” Noiz said, pulling Aoba into his lap, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “But I wanted you to think you did.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped then," Aoba said, letting out an over the top sigh at Noiz’s words.

But his body told a different story as he wrapped his arms around Noiz’s neck, relaxing against him, comforted to know the start of his life in Germany hadn’t meant the end of his life here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. What a darn happy family.
> 
> I originally wrote this to build a friendship between Noiz and Koujaku, but it kind of went off the rails. Thank you for taking the time to read this regardless, I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
